


cause I got the plug, I made the call

by serendipitee



Category: GOT7
Genre: Anal Sex, Car Sex, Former Idol Jaebum, M/M, Nipple Piercings, Nipple Play, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Recreational Drug Use, Spit As Lube, Teasing, don't use spit as lube kids use lube as lube, your friendly neighborhood weed man Mark Tuan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-22
Updated: 2018-11-13
Packaged: 2019-07-01 04:53:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15766998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/serendipitee/pseuds/serendipitee
Summary: Sometimes, after shows when the weed is settled into their lungs, hands slow and clumsy and covetous, they fuck. It's chill.





	1. lay a great time on ya

**Author's Note:**

> whew I'm on a smut roll here  
> also can you tell I Love Em Dashes  
> title from [come through and chill by Miguel](https://youtu.be/Fjm81OPZbpU)
> 
> xx enjoy

Mark is already in the tiny green room when the set is over, like he usually is, perched birdlike at the end of the couch next to whoever played before Jaebeom went to spin and sing. The two people on the other end are engrossed in conversation that Mark only finds mildly annoying and not enough to shoo them away as he rolls a blunt the size of his pinky for Jaebeom and him to share.

Mark has been dealing to Jaebeom almost as long as they've known each other, not longer than a couple weeks after a mutual friend introduced them. They're friends, now, too. Mark comes to most of his shows to cheer him on and sell to the staff and other performers. Jaebeom's funny and cute and has a beautiful mellow R&B sound that Mark really likes. Mark’s one of the only people who doesn’t bother him about the fact that he used to be an idol, because he doesn’t really give a shit.  

Sometimes, after shows when the weed is settled into their lungs, hands slow and clumsy and covetous, they fuck. It's chill.

The Korean boy grins super wide at him from the doorway as he shuffles in, adrenaline high after the swell of humanity in the crowd enjoyed his stuff. Jaebeom's always pleasantly surprised when a show is well-received, somehow, despite almost all of his shows going that way. “Hyung!”

“Hey, Bummie,” he chimes back, smiling while also trying to concentrate on the task at hand. He catches enough of him in the short glance to see that he looks good; a little sweaty, so his oversized sweatshirt is clinging to his broad shoulders and covering up his tiny waist, and he’s wearing his grandpa glasses—that’s just cute—under a ball cap. It makes his beaming look even sweeter, eyes creasing. “You sounded so good tonight.”

Jaebeom thanks him with a proud flush and a little downward tilt of his chin. Despite having been in LA for the last three or four years he’s still a little traditional. Aside from how eager he is to fuck around with Mark most of the times they see each other.

Mark shoves that thought to the side. He’s trying not to get distracted, sticking his tongue in his teeth while he finishes rolling, baking the outside of the wrap with the same red lighter he always uses for this, the one that Bambam bought him after stealing and then losing his favorite one. “I got a present for you.”

“Aw, you shouldn’t have.” Jaebeom slinks closer, dropping onto the arm of the sagging couch next to Mark, chugging what’s left of the crinkled water bottle in his hand knowing how dry his mouth will be in twenty minutes. “What’s the occasion?”

“I can’t just be your benevolent weed man? God, what are we coming to,” Mark teases, laughing loud when Jaebeom makes to put him in a headlock. “I’m being nice and this is how you repay me?”

Jaebeom giggles, unrestrained, and slides off of the arm to squash part of the way into Mark’s lap, jostling the people next to them. It’s not enough to make them leave, unfortunately, just enough to get them to cast dirty looks. Mark ignores them in favor of wrapping an arm around Jaebeom’s waist and propping his chin on a wide shoulder, holding the blunt between his thumb and forefinger in offering.

“Being nice,” Jaebeom repeats, turning toward Mark so that their cheeks brush. His eyes have an unmistakable undercurrent to them. “Suspicious. You’re not actually that nice.”

Mark winks, laying it on thick, before tightening his arm around Jaebeom and muttering close to his ear. “Only to you.”

Flattery will get you everywhere.

Right now, it’s gotten him into the backseat of Jaebeom’s ugly old SUV, head fuzzy as Jaebeom kisses wetly up and down the column of his throat, stretched out lazily on top of him and pressing him into the bench. Jaebeom had shoved his “getting high w/ Mork” mix into the overused CD player when they first clambered in, and now the beats swing in a low, familiar hum. The air is still hazy with smoke, and the windows are fogging up against the damp chill of the night outside, letting bleak yellow light from the street lamps trickle in. Mark grins and rolls his eyes at himself, at the situation for being such a cliché.

“What are you smirking about?” Jaebeom’s voice sounds a half-step deeper after smoking. He doesn’t actually wait for Mark’s answer, just nosing behind his ear instead, licking and then biting sharply against the lobe.

Mark jerks, the pain cutting through the high to yank in his gut, winding a winch slow and tight. “Feels good.” He presses his hands up and under Jaebeom’s black hoodie, suddenly remembering he can use them to cop a feel. Jaebeom’s back is wide at the shoulders and slim at his waist, warm and soft all over. Mark gets lost running his hands across his skin, feeling the muscles move and flex and relax underneath.

The crackle of arousal burns different when he’s high—it’s there, it can’t not be when Jaebeom is writhing on top of him like this, but it’s different. Everything feels intensified, the base heat between the two of them cranked up, but slower, time ticking away with him content to just touch. Every sensation seems longer and more drawn out, never losing the newness of feeling Jaebeom’s expensive hoodie, or the heat of his body, or the peach fuzz gathered at the bottom curve of his spine. Like this, he thinks he could get off just from them making out, tongues hot and slick against each other.

He’s already hard, and in the crux of his legs where he lays, Jaebeom can feel it. He smiles against Mark’s neck. “Hyung.”

“Mmm?” Mark says, overacting his standoffishness. Like he could ever escape the tractor beams of Jaebeom’s cat eyes when they narrow and smirk down at him.

“If you wanted me to take off my shirt you could have just asked.”

Cocky asshole. He pulls wordlessly at the back hem of the sweatshirt, scraping his nails against Jaebeom’s lower back in retaliation, delighted at the way it makes him squirm into the v of his legs. Still, he takes the cue and sits back on his haunches to pull the shirt off and drop it to the side, the tendons over his ribs flexing and bending in the low light. The bar piercings through his nipples glint. Mark has to catch his breath.

He finds himself leaning up before Jaebeom can come back down. He can smell the familiar woodsy cologne Jaebeom wears as a good luck charm for shows, and mixed in with the pine-scented weed and sweat in the air, it’s making Mark’s body react like a dog with a bone. The primal part of his brain knows what’s coming next, and he follows it without shame.

Jaebeom looks surprised when he notices Mark sitting up for the half-second it takes him to cup a hand around the dark hair at his nape and pull him in to a kiss. Jaebeom moans loud and low into his mouth. Mark knows one of the reasons they do this so often is they both love kissing when they’re high—Jaebeom loves the pull of Mark’s teeth at his bottom lip, loves the pornographic sounds of their wet mouths against each other. Mark loves how Jaebeom loses himself in it almost like he loses himself onstage, almost like when Mark’s sucking him off quick between sets—Mark loves how kissing him makes him let go, forget everything but the bubble they’re in, a bubble no one else gets to enter.

One of Jaebeom’s arms slides around his back. Mark leans into his space further, craning, until he’s suddenly being lifted under his thighs—bumps his head a little on the low ceiling, “ _ow!_ ”—to be plopped down into Jaebeom’s lap.

Jaebeom’s smiling wide and with only a twinge of guilt at him. “Sorry, hyung.”

Mark rolls his eyes, fondness creeping into the corners of his mouth. “No, you’re not.” He presses a hand against his chest to shift his balance, trying to make sure his bony ass fits in the cradle of Jaebeom’s hips. The heel of his hand just barely brushes the inner ball of his right piercing. Jaebeom huffs hotly at the movement, dick twitching under Mark.

“No,” Jaebeom admits, sliding hot hands up under the hem of Mark’s shirt, then down over his ass. “I’m not.”

“Shameless,” Mark says with a put-upon sigh, like he isn’t arching into Jaebeom’s hands while they’re squeezing and kneading what little handhold of his butt they can get through his tight jeans. “A disrespectful dongsaeng.” He pairs the last part with another roll of his hips, cups a hand around his own clothed cock and presses against it, modesty long gone. The friction rolls a shock down his spine, and his eyes close to it, bowing to the temporary pleasure. He leans into Jaebeom’s space, rubs his clothed chest against the bigger man’s, and savors the choked-off noise it arouses when the fabric brushes his nipples.

Jaebeom is already staring when Mark looks at him again, eyes unfocused and hungry. “What can I do to make it up to you, hyung?”

Words fail Mark when they’re like this. More often than not, his actions do most of the talking. That’s why he just sticks his fingers in Jaebeom’s wide pink mouth.

The skin of Mark’s hands probably doesn’t taste very good right now—some combo of white peach wrap and butane and green—but Jaebeom sucks on his first two fingers like it’s his goddamn job, hollowing his cheeks in a filthy echo of the first time they ever did this, when Jaebeom collapsed onto his knees and sucked him off dirty and fast in a dank alleyway behind the club he was playing in.

He had been brimming with electricity that night, already amped on the performance high when he caught Mark just off stage and grinned ear to ear and followed him outside. It was the first time he had shown up to an actual show and not just a brainstorming/jamming sort of thing or a house party at Jackson’s or a regular night hanging out with Jaebeom and his billion cats after Mark dealt to him, where sometimes he would fiddle around on his keyboard, when they would talk nonsense and watch anime and sometimes lay outside in the cool, dewy grass to look at the glittering stars.

They smoked then shared a cigarette in the alley and all of the jagged, jumpy edges of Jaebeom's mood smoothed out like a skipping stone to plop into the placid, meaningless flirting they always did, rippling the surface. That's when he stuck his tongue down Mark's throat and wrapped it around his cock and licked his lips when he was done like he enjoyed the taste.

The wave kept going, and now Mark and Jaebeom do this. It's just another part of their little pond.

Jaebeom makes a sound around his fingers like he wants to ask something, so Mark slides them out. Strings of saliva stretch across the space between and break. “Are you thinking too hard about it?”

Mark's ears heat, embarrassed at being so transparent. “No.” Jaebeom rolls his eyes like he knows it's a lie but doesn't stop him, too busy pressing his palm into the small of Mark's back, trying to compel him to wriggle on his lap. “I wasn't thinking _too_ hard. Just hard enough.”

“About what?” Jaebeom prods absently, distracted by watching Mark unzip his jeans with his left hand, shimmying them and his underwear past his skinny hips, giggling a little when they trap his ankles before contorting out of them. The air shifts when he settles again, and the bottom of Mark's shirt brushes his thighs, only slightly covering the lewd sight of his cock bobbing. Jaebeom gnaws on his lip, blooming the skin pink and red.

He reaches behind himself and watches Jaebeom's eyes grow exponentially wide, jaw hanging open. “About how I want to sit on your cock,” Mark says, gasping as he teases himself with his fingertips.

Jaebeom curses with feeling, and although Mark is busy it makes him smirk through the little electric bursts of pleasure to hear how winded he sounds. “Hyung….” He watches intently as Mark rocks back and forth, the skin of his throat stretching and sliding over his Adam’s apple when he gulps and pants. Mark regards him in return, the minute pulsing of his veins, blue and purple under his skin, and thinks briefly of his heart, punching against the inside of his chest, living and fucking and smiling at Mark like he never, ever gets tired of seeing him. It’s mutual.

Right now, Mark is content to work himself open with the fingers that Jaebeom made wet. A hot flush barrels down from his ears to his cheeks thinking of how it looks, of how desperate he must seem, of how Jaebeom's been staring unblinkingly at him since he dropped Mark into his lap, eyes glazing over with lust. “Do you have—?” He pulls a little groan out of himself, hand and hips starting to move out of sync when the good feeling spikes, fingers brushing his prostate. “ _Ah_ , Bummie....”

Jaebeom starts, shaking out of gawking and back into the moment. “Shit, yeah. Let me just—” he says, fingers digging into Mark’s hip, nudging him to kneel so he can scramble in his pocket for a condom and shuck his pants down to his knees in a flurry of movement. Like this, Mark can look down and see the rosy imprint across Jaebeom’s thighs where he sat, the vibrant coloring of his cock when it slaps against his lower abdomen. His own stomach flutters in anticipation.

While Jaebeom rolls the condom on, Mark lets his hands wander, thumbing across Jaebeom’s shoulders and biceps, down his pecs and swiping across his nipples. The movement squeezes a frantic sound out of Jaebeom, who clamps iron fingers around one of Mark’s wrists. He’s sensitive; Mark forgot. Or, almost forgot. One time, out of curiosity, Mark asked if he could come just from touching his chest like that, fondling his piercings, and Jaebeom had only shrugged, blushing, saying though he’s had them for a year he hadn’t thought to try it yet.

What a waste. Mark can’t stop himself from flashing his other hand out quick, taking the bar between the thumb and pointer finger of his left hand and twisting, fast and unforgiving. Jaebeom arches into the touch, back and neck and mouth rounding into a lovely concave curve when he cries out. “ _Fuck,_  Mark.” He heaves a few breaths before opening his eyes, black-brown going honey sticky, gaze reckless and burning. Mark is trapped like an insect. “Ride me, hyung.”

Mark gasps, nods.

Jaebeom spits into his own hand, strokes himself, exhaling hard. His cock is as perfect as the rest of him, Mark thinks, not for the first time, before sinking down onto it with shaking legs.

Jaebeom is obviously straining against the urge to fuck up into Mark, tendons in his neck tight, but Mark is glad for his restraint because he can already feel the whining, winding need in him building on itself at the pressure of just the tip of Jaebeom’s cock inside him. Mark’s head feels loose, like it’s gonna fall off his neck at any moment, weightless. He grips into the worn leather of the seat behind Jaebeom, puts the other hand on his shoulder, and digs his nails into both to ground himself when he relaxes further into Jaebeom’s lap. The leather tears open and spills spongy filling out between his fingers.

Jaebeom shudders against the sting, squeezing his wide hands around the juts of Mark’s hip bones when he shifts to adjust. He throws his head back and Mark follows, dropping his face into the arch of his neck with an overwhelmed sigh when he bottoms out.

He mouths sloppily at the dip of Jaebeom’s collarbone, nips at the taut skin against it, catching his breath and trying to soothe the hot sparking of all his nerve endings, trying to hold it down tight in a fist so he can stay here feeling Jaebeom’s warm body against his forever. Jaebeom hums, pleased at the scrape of teeth, and Mark can feel the vibration of it against his cheek. Then, slowly, he moves.

“ _God,_ ” Jaebeom chokes out, voice thick in his throat. “Jesus, you’re so tight, feel so fucking _good._ ”

A shiver trickles lazily across Mark’s skin, shooting a whine out of him. “Jaebummie.” He lifts and rolls back down, wraps his hand around the slick head of his own cock where it rubs against Jaebeom’s stomach and squeezes it just a little too hard to stop himself from coming in an instant. He’s still wearing his shirt and it’s getting stuck to him where the heat around them coalesces, damp in the softness of his elbows, at his wrists, between their stomachs and at the small of his back. “My shirt….”

Mark is so glad that it only takes that much for Jaebeom to know what he means, because he has a hard time thinking of any words at all when he’s filled up like this, rocking back and forth as Jaebeom peels it off of him. Jaebeom’s pretty eyes flash when he strips him, sliding his hands up and down Mark’s bare back, fingers soft but sure when they thread in the longer hair at the back of his head and pull him in to trap Mark’s lips against his.

They breathe into each others’ mouths, artlessly tangling tongues as Mark fucks himself onto Jaebeom, relishing the sounds it punches out of him. The hoarse, half-Korean, half-English obscenities spilling from his mouth when they’re panting at each other makes Mark want to just let go, fuck into his own fist and _come already_ because Jaebeom is unbelievably hot like this: desperate and making little aborted motions upward, cock buried in Mark and pressing hard against his prostate when he slides down, talking about how good it feels to have him on top (“ _aish_ , baby, yes, just— _just_ like that—”).

But it seems like Jaebeom is determined to have him ride him slow, savory, swimming in the high and H.E.R. playing in the background when he licks down Mark’s throat again. “I can’t believe how perfect you are like this, god, hyung,” he murmurs, vocal chords straining low, shaking through Mark’s paper-thin skin and shuddering into the cavity of his chest. “Taking my cock so good, baby.” He pairs the comment with a touch to the overheated skin of Mark’s dick, just a tease with the tips of his fingers through the precome dripping down the head.

Mark nearly blacks out from the sudden brush, all of the blood in his body rushing south. He moans loud enough to hear it echo back to him in the space of the car, needy. “Jaebeom, fuck, touch me again.”

Jaebeom’s eyes have that wicked teasing edge in them again, wide at Mark’s sudden outburst like he didn’t cause it himself. “Hmm?”

He’s doing this on purpose. Mark would be boiling over with fury if it wasn’t making something warm curl in his guts, knowing what he wants. Jaebeom loves it when he can pull words out of Mark like a goddamn magician pulling a string of silk scarves out of his sleeve. “Bummie, god, please fucking touch me. _Fuck_ me. Please, please, baby—”

“You want me to fuck you?” Jaebeom says, already knowing the answer, already giving in and clutching him around his lower back and flipping them around and over so Mark’s back hits the seat again, sweaty skin sticking, slipping his cock back into Mark’s hole when he slides out.

They cry out together when he fucks in like this, Mark’s stomach clenching, Jaebeom’s head hanging between his shoulders like he can’t hold up the weight of it anymore, huffing into Mark’s collarbone when Mark tightens around his dick. “Hyung,” he breathes, “touch yourself.” Mark swallows hard before grasping his cock in hand again, head buzzing. It won’t take more than a few strokes to get there, at this point, and he feels like he deserves it after dropping every sense of decency and begging.

Jaebeom senses his urgency, speeding up his thrusts, hammering against his prostate over and over again, arms still wrapped around his back, stroking his shoulders and the nape of his neck with a gentle touch that is so completely in character Mark almost laughs. Of course Jaebeom would be the type to be soft at the same time he was fucking someone at an almost punishing pace.

As if sensing his thoughts, Jaebeom murmurs again. “Mark, fuck, you’re so good. You look so beautiful spread out for me, I’m never gonna think about anything else.” He leaves it unsaid, what he’s said before—that he could write a thousand songs about this, about them like this, that he can barely breathe when he thinks of them together like this, always—but Mark knows, and it shakes him apart, coming into his fist and across Jaebeom’s abs, filthy.

Jaebeom whimpers when Mark tightens around him like a vice, dropping fully onto his chest and fucking into him four, five, six more times before keening and coming, Mark watching the changing expressions on his face open-mouthed, because he never gets tired of seeing Jaebeom fall to pieces because of him. He loves watching the arch of his brow and the turn of his mouth, the way a sweet, tiny, satisfied smile almost always settles over his lips when he comes.

He drops, rolls his face into Mark’s chest more, nose against his breastbone, still trying to catch his breath. Mark threads his clean fingers into the long dark hair in front of him and listens to the calm, heavy beat of Jaebeom’s exhale, inhale.

When he can manage it, Jaebeom finally turns toward him, sharp chin indenting Mark’s pec. They look at each other in minute silence, surveying each other’s faces. Then, Jaebeom’s eyes go soft and his mouth goes wide, grinning, and it’s all Mark can do to smile back.


	2. since our last undressin session

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They don’t do this all the time. But sometimes they do.
> 
> a drabble feat. jaebeom and his piercings

Jaebeom is a vision asleep against the white sheets of Mark’s bed when Mark stirs in the late morning sunlight.

They don’t do this all the time, spending the night. But sometimes they do. 

It’s. Well. It’s chill. It’s also the way that Jaebeom likes wringing Mark out on nights where they fuck on one of their beds, finding new and creative ways to make him beg and crumble; it’s how Mark smooths his thumb over the frown lines in Jaebeom’s forehead when he gets frustrated mid-production, gives him a ridiculous amount of pecks on his cheeks until he’s grinning; it’s something in the way that they smile at each other after seeing Jinyoung and Jackson flirting disastrously for the first time when they hang out with their ( _their_ ) ever-growing mutual friend group. It’s a lot of things, none of which they’ve defined.

Mark tears his eyes away from Jaebeom’s newly-tanned skin (the product of a particularly convincing whining session from Mark and a week spent in Sunset Cliffs) and the peaceful rise and fall of his chest, tiptoeing out of the room to get a glass of water and smoke a bowl. It’s Saturday; the day is young, Jaebeom doesn’t have any gigs tonight and Mark plans on making the most of it. After he wake and bakes.

It’s not until Mark is peering back into his bedroom from the outside that he realizes Jaebeom had the same idea. He’s definitely planning on making the most of the morning, if the way he’s spread-eagled on the bed, covers kicked down, teasing his tender nipples is any indication.

Mark watches, entranced as Jaebeom touches his chest, the column of his neck going long and straight when he finally circles onto the sensitive skin, fingers delicate and searching against the ball bearings holding his piercings in. Mark can hear the heavy heft of his breath from across the room, the puffs of little hitching sighs. He’s doing it slow, still sleepy in the lax hanging of his knobby wrists and the way he’s blinking against the yellow light cast over him like a blanket.

Mark’s mouth already feels drier than the desert. He licks his lips and wraps fingers around the door, meaning to jump into the action when he remembers the conversation they had months and months ago. When he asked if Jaebeom ever tried to get off like this, if he ever took his time with just his hands and his chest, if he thought he could make himself come like this. Mark had thought of this a bunch of times since then; thought of him coming all over his stomach without touching his cock, thought of Jaebeom’s eyes burning through him with laser focus as he watched Mark watching him. 

But he doesn’t want to shatter the mood. He doesn’t want Jaebeom to stop, and he doesn’t want him to think about anything else but getting himself off. Who is he to interrupt the scene laid out in front of him? Giving Jaebeom even half a minute of pause when he's preoccupied and squirming under the work of his own hands seems almost cruel. Stopping him from rubbing himself down with his palms in a teasing test would just be unfair. 

Jaebeom makes a little whining, needy sound at the back of his throat. Mark can see his cock jump against the inside of his thigh when he twists one of the pretty brown blossoms between his thumb and forefinger. “ _Ah._ ”

Mark squeezes the door so hard the wood creaks.

His eyes are shut, but Mark is suddenly sure that Jaebeom knows he’s being watched. The way he’s digging his heels into the sheets, rubbing and undulating back against the bed, the arch of his throat — all of that has to be intentional, right? The way he’s caressing his hands lazily across his skin and the quiet, wet sounds of his mouth opening and closing all seem too good, too perfect. Everything he’s doing is engineered to make Mark feel perilously close to losing it.

Jaebeom hums, opening his eyes, feline in the sluggish flutter of his eyelids. He doesn’t look at Mark, but the corner of his mouth quirks up for the half-second before he twists and rubs his nipples again. “Ah, _hyung._ ”

The hand that isn’t on the door presses down on the front of Mark’s boxers. “Don’t let me stop you.”

“Wasn’t planning on it,” Jaebeom says, breathless with a smile in his voice. “Why are you so far away?”

Mark grins and lets the door swing shut behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> surprise! i couldn't stop thinking about jaebeom playing with his pierced nips so here we are. hope you enjoyed ♥


	3. baby i wonder, would you just

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Oh, baby, you want it wet, huh?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OKAY THIS IS REALLY, TRULY, THE END FOREVER. not markbum but this weed/former-idol verse specifically is now Finito. I wasn't all that happy with the way the last chapter finished so i...just ...added more lmfao
> 
> clearly i love markbum enough that they haunt me  
> okay lesgetit

The floorboards are warm under his feet. “I liked just watching,” he murmurs. “Isn't that what you wanted? To put on a show?”

Jaebeom finally slides his sleepy gaze toward Mark when he nears the bed, hands stilling, smile lurking in his lips. They’re still stained cherry red from club candy and sticky lipgloss borrowed from Bambam and Mark fucking deep into the warm clutch of his throat the night before. “Maybe a little. Is that vain?”

“Maybe a little.” He shucks his boxers and crawls across the bed, sharing the patch of sun with Jaebeom. He lays close but doesn’t touch. “Doesn’t mean you should stop.”

Mark likes the close-up view better, he realizes when Jaebeom’s breath catches. From here, he can see how Jaebeom’s hands smooth back up his chest, the way his thumbs tickle along his pecs until he’s stroking soft against his areolas. He can see the hair on the backs of Jaebeom’s forearms standing at attention when he nudges his fingertips against his piercings. He can hear the quiet sound of Jaebeom’s throat working, a heavy hum in the back of his mouth when he presses down on his chest.

“How does it feel?”

Jaebeom moans. It’s quiet and thick and it settles on Mark’s skin, laying on him like an itch he desperately wants to scratch. “Good, hyung.” He circles his fingers again, trapping the bars of his piercings between his first two fingers to twist slow. Mark watches his head tip back, spine tingling as Jaebeom groans again. “God, it feels so good. It’s like a direct line to my dick.”

His cock is flushed nearly purple at the teasing, leaking onto his flat stomach.

Mark licks his lips.

Jaebeom squirms, left hand fluttering by his ribs. “Hyung, I want….”

“What do you want, baby?” 

Mark doesn’t miss the way his cock twitches. The pinkness in Jaebeom’s cheeks burns brighter, races down his neck and toward his ears. Mark grins, smile sliding a little as Jaebeom’s hands both leave his chest to move toward his face.

He watches in a daze as Jaebeom slides the first two fingers of his right hand into his mouth, then his left. He makes sure to look at Mark while he does it, over the four fingers stuffed into him, smirking with his eyes. Mark can see his tongue undulating beneath the digits and nearly tears a hole into the sheet with how hard he grips it.

He may have envisioned this happening differently. In his mind’s eye Jaebeom is always less of a handful than he actually is in reality. He’s placid and gentle and giving and wild and frisky and needy in turns and it is nearly impossible to tell which he’ll choose on any given day until Mark is in deep. Figuratively or literally.

But Mark has his own talents. “Oh, baby, you want it wet, huh? Think it’ll feel good when you touch yourself like that, with your fingers all slick?”

Jaebeom makes a choked-off noise around his fingers, squeezes his eyes shut for a moment. There’s drool leaking out of the corner of his mouth and the skin of his hands is shiny below the second knuckle. “You look so messy. Making me want to fuck your face again.”

The whimper that rattles out of Jaebeom’s lungs chases his fingers out of his mouth. “Hyung.” He’s not asking for anything, just whining. So Mark doesn’t give him anything.

Instead Mark watches his friend’s hands go back to their work. Goosebumps erupt over Jaebeom’s arms and neck when he touches his nipples again with damp fingers. The nubs harden further under the soft slide. There’s a buzzing at the back of his skull that presses at him to _touchtouchtouch_ , to touch himself or Jaebeom, to rub the head of his cock against the sheets, to stop ignoring the throbbing in his groin and neck. To stuff his dick into Jaebeom’s warm, open mouth, or rub them off together, or claw down his back as Jaebeom fucks him, or sink deep into his ass, pressing a hand against the nape of his neck so his face is buried in Mark’s mattress.

Blood rushes under Jaebeom’s thumbs and the skin of his cheeks when he twists the barbells of his piercings in toward his sternum. “ _Mark,_ ” he cries, the em sound drawn out like a wail.

“Good, baby? You’re doing so good, Bummie.” Mark swallows hard around the tremble in his voice, flexes his hand and relaxes and continues to ignore his own cock pulsing. “You look so fucking good like this. I love watching you touch yourself.”

The next sound out of Jaebeom is even closer to a sob. “Hyung, I — oh, please touch me.”

“Are you sure?” Mark says, despite his body betraying him early, hands creeping up close to Jaebeom’s hot skin.

“Yes, yes, please, it feels so good but I need — ” he gasps, skin shivering when Mark’s fingers fit around his ribs.

“What is it, baby?” Mark asks, getting up on his knees, shifting and shuffling so he’s sitting up in between Jaebeom’s soft, thick thighs. He leans into his palms, spread out on the mattress on either side of Jaebeom’s belly. Jaebeom’s hands are dormant on his chest, but his fingers are still wet in the sunlight. “Do you want me to put my mouth on you?” 

Jaebeom nods wordlessly. Mark leans down, blows a stream of cool air across one of the buds. “Up here?”

“Or down,” Jaebeom breathes, a ghost of a smile breaking through the heavy-lidded look on his face.

Mark chuckles, then leans down to lick a hot wide stripe across Jaebeom’s left nipple. The metal of Jaebeom’s piercing clicks against his teeth when he licks again before sucking the flesh into his mouth. “Ah, _fuck!_ ” Jaebeom says, and a hand is suddenly fisting tight in the back of Mark’s hair. “Hyung, you — oh, my God, that feels good.” 

He laves and suckles at the one side, and then the other, tongue and teeth working together in a torturous tandem that leaves Jaebeom gasping for air, oversensitized. Mark doesn’t even realize how close his friend probably is to orgasm until Jaebeom squeezes and pulls on his hair. When he looks up at him, Jaebeom’s head is lolling back but his eyes are glassy and needy. “Mark, god, I’m so close.”

“Do you want to come, baby?” Mark coos, pulling away from Jaebeom’s chest and licking the pads of his fingers before sending them down, down, down. 

“Yeah, hyung,” Jaebeom moans, cursing in Korean when he puts his fingers back on his nipples. He nearly doesn’t notice the brush of Mark’s hand between his thighs until the older man’s fingers circle his hole, warm and wet and gentle and then pressing _in_. 

It’s just enough to get the tip of Mark’s middle finger inside, and that is just enough for Jaebeom to finally, finally unravel, coming across his stomach with a shout.

It takes Jaebeom a second to catch his breath, eyes fluttering barely shut, chest heaving, but the second he opens his eyes he looks at Mark. Mark is almost unsure of what to make of it — there looks like layers and layers of things to be said, things felt and unspoken — but before he can think too much, Jaebeom’s smiling again, twin moles above his eye dancing. “Your turn.”


End file.
